


Astreles Islands

by comebackjessica



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Banter, Bisexual Disaster Tommy Shelby, Bittersweet, Daddy Alfie Solomons, Dominant Alfie Solomons, F/M, Gay Disasters Pretend Not To Be Made For Each Other More At Eleven, Humor, Idiots in Love, Kings & Queens, M/M, Romance, Royalty, Tommy Shelby Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebackjessica/pseuds/comebackjessica
Summary: We begin with some very interesting political events in Astreles Islands, only to find out why our dear King Tommy is so repressed, his sister, Princess Ada, so amused, and Her Royal Highness Princess Polly entirely done with her nephew, Prince John, flirting with the owner of the local orchard. This royal family honestly seems doomed...
Relationships: John Shelby/Original Female Character(s), Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

Astreles Islands were a charming archipelago located on the North Sea, just 450 kilometers north-east of Scotland. Population? Two hundred seventeen thousand and sixty-six, which still made it more than Faroe Islands or Iceland — a fact that any Astrelian would tell you immediately, even if you didn’t really ask. The islands were a picturesque place, with a slightly warmer climate than the rest of their neighbors. Surrounded by the Northern Sea and ruled by a peculiar dynasty, they were an interesting country indeed.

The other fun fact an Astrelian might want to blurt out at one point or another, would be that the British Empire tried to conquer the islands multiple times but never succeeded. The reason for that being, the seemingly inconsequential little country was ruled by very cunning people. Unusual, sure, but sneaky nonetheless.

In 1786, the first ever empress of Astreles proposed an amicable trade agreement to Norway and Denmark, with Sweden and the Netherlands following soon after. You see, the very particular climate allowed the citizens of Astreles to harvest a rare and truly delicious variety of tea. Since the United Kingdom had placed ridiculous taxes on the tea they already owned and imported from India, the other countries gladly agreed to lesser taxes and the Astrelian treaty. No one in their right mind would pass on the occasion to rub King George’s nose in the fact he wasn’t invited to a tea party. Sometime later, Prussia joined that peculiar union and together they all hated the United Kingdom as allies. 

In 1931, a large oil deposit was discovered on the outskirts of the largest island of the archipelago, which pissed the British government to no end. The monarchs of Norway were the first to send a congratulatory letter. The oil, in turn, really put Astreles on the map and this is when the trouble started for its royal family.

It all began when the royal couple’s ship got lost at sea during their annual diplomatic tournee. Granted, King Arthur was not particularly mourned, but his queen was another story entirely. The gentle woman that she was, she loved her family and her people equally. The king and queen orphaned four sons and a daughter, leaving the king’s sister, Her Royal Highness Princess Elizabeth (affectionately known as “Polly”), as regent until the eldest son would come of age. Arthur Junior, the eldest in question, was seventeen at the time and it became apparent rather quickly that he was nobody’s first choice for a ruler — not even his own. Struggling with the pressure, he ruled the country under the strong influence of his aunt, until his brother Tommy turned twenty-five and Arthur could abdicate on his behalf. The relief was palpable both in the palace and in the country. Princess Elizabeth took it upon herself to make it work this time. So far, it seems she was succeeding. Thomas proved himself to be a capable ruler, if a little quirky in terms of being extremely supportive of animal welfare.

Prince John, who never imagined to be closer to the throne than the safe distance of at least two of his brothers (and probably a hefty bunch of their future children), suddenly became the second in line. This, while not ideal, opened up a world of power and possibilities before him, but then again who was he to refuse that? John’s real opportunity to shine came around when it became apparent that their aunt was trying to find the young king a wife.

“I think it’s a great idea,” John teased his brother as they ate their breakfast together. Ada, their sister, snickered at that behind her newspaper.

“Pick someone from the Habsburg dynasty this time, at least then she’ll have a beard,” piped up Finn, the youngest of the siblings. That comment resulted in Arthur roaring with laughter and the young king fuming over his eggs over easy.

“Tommy, come on,” Ada offered a voice of reason. “At least try to be nice to this delegation? The last princess you insulted could cost us a war with Portugal.”

“I am being nice,” Tommy hissed at his sister, breaking his bread into little pieces that suggested he might have been imagining breaking his siblings’ necks while at it. “Not my fault they’re all twelve and sheltered. We have nothing in common and it’s apparent their governments only want the union because of our oil.”

“We could always find you someone older, I hear Princess Alexandra of Monaco is still available. Recently turned sixty,” Polly exclaimed with a smirk, as she entered the room and briskly made her way to the breakfast table. 

She was still in her horse riding attire and all the siblings noticed how much yearning suddenly filled Tommy’s eyes. Everybody knew he would much rather spend his days on tending to the horses in the royal stables than anything else.

“Very funny, Auntie,” Tommy said and took out his cigarette case.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Tommy! Not over my breakfast!” Ada moaned and John snickered, knowing full well what a hypocrite his sister was.

He had only yesterday caught her stealing his own cigarettes, which he kept in a locked drawer in his bedroom. Somebody must have taught Ada how to pick locks and so far John’s bet was on Tommy. Despite appearances, him and Ada were thick as thieves. Nobody was more protective of their sister than the young king. Tommy was also not as innocent as he looked, which was why it might have proven so difficult to find him that perfect bride. Not to mention that, well… while Tommy liked women alright, his stronger preference was definitely men. Only the closest members of the family knew, of course, but still — it was sometimes challenging to negotiate some peace between the king and his aunt. Polly tried to reason with Tommy, who, surprisingly analytical as he usually was, made it extremely difficult for the court to finally set up any sort of marital arrangement for himself.

Ada teased Tommy for being a romantic.

John, on the other hand, was a romantic, second. First and foremost, he loved a good time. He didn’t like to take things too seriously, especially when it came to himself or politics. He had a different approach than Tommy, that’s for certain. Tommy, for one, could only unwind when riding. John considered himself much more versatile than that.

“What’s that?” Tommy asked coolly, when a servant offered him a large, official-looking letter on a silver platter. 

Polly smirked in her tea and Ada folded down the newspaper she was at this point only pretending to read. John paid no attention to such pretences; he promptly stood up from his seat and sat right beside Tommy, grinning like the cheeky man he was.

“Well, go on then, Tom,” John teased. “Show us your love letter.”

Tommy glared at his brother and muttered something about audacity but finally broke the red seal and started reading. The more he read, the colder his eyes became. He knit his brows, which he tended to do often, making his forehead prematurely creased. 

“Well, what is it?” pressed Ada.

“A delegation from Denmark is coming. In two weeks,” Tommy said coldly, then put down the letter and reached for his tea. 

“And?” John patted the king on the arm, which only a few people in the world were brave enough to do to Tommy.

“And,” Tommy slapped John’s hand away, “nothing.”

“Oh, that is such bullshit!” Ada exclaimed. 

John looked her way and, predicting her actions, grabbed the letter first before anyone could protest. At the same time, Tommy shot daggers at Polly, which at first went unnoticed to the rest of the siblings.

“You’re awfully quiet, Auntie,” Tommy commented, his tone dangerously calm.

“Just tired from riding, dear,” Polly said slyly. “John! Ada! Act your age, please,” she chastised her niece and nephew, who were now bickering next to the breakfast table, each wanting to read the letter.

“Oh, fuck me!” John exclaimed when he finally finished the last paragraph. He was holding the letter high up, so that Ada couldn’t snatch it away from him.

The room went absolutely quiet. Nobody who really knew the young prince John could tell he was a very proper young man, nevertheless it came as a shock every time when he did something like swear out loud in a room full of servants. Polly’s lips were pursed together so tightly that they nearly disappeared from her face altogether.

“Oh, prudes! All of you lot,” John huffed, looking around the room. Ada took this chance to grab the letter from him and read it herself. After she finished, she shrieked and pointed at Tommy.

“Her Royal Highness Princess Margaret of Denmark and her sister, Her Royal Highness Princess Mary-Louise of Denmark, are honored to accept the kind invitation of the Royal Family of Astreles Islands, blah, blah…!” Ada read out loud. “... they shall be accompanied by their uncle... blah, blah, blah, arriving within a fortnight… _God_ , Auntie!” Ada looked up from the letter a little flushed. “Oh, that is a low blow, Aunt Polly!” She looked at Polly sternly. “Denmark is our closest ally, you fully know that Tommy cannot afford to affront these princesses in any way! You’re setting him up!”

“I don’t know what you mean, Ada, darling,” Polly finished her tea. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a meeting with the ambassador, I really can’t be late.”

* * *

John was never one to like horses, at least not as much as his aunt or Tommy. Then again, nobody in the whole world probably loved horses as much as the young king. There was even a rare breed of small horses, native to the islands, that was now strictly protected by law. It was decided by one of the first decrees that Tommy’s new government had passed right after he became king. John always teased his brother about his priorities.

John personally didn’t mind horses per se, they were cute but that’s it. His one true love was cars. The young prince had a vast collection of sport cars and convertibles, which he kept in his private residence. John would only sometimes visit the palace, usually when living alone with his hunting dogs and servants was getting to him and he was feeling lonely. 

The only ones who still lived in the palace were Tommy, for obvious reasons, and Finn — but only because he was still underage. John personally knew that the youngest of them couldn’t wait to move out. Polly also lived in the palace, being the advisor to the king she more or less had to, though John remembered Arthur mentioning something about Polly first moving back to the palace when she became a widow. Not soon after that, her brother and sister-in-law were lost at sea, and she took it very hard. Had it not been for the little princes and the princess Polly suddenly had to take under her wings, she probably wouldn’t have survived this. 

John would sometimes think of their Aunt Polly, so tough on the outside and very affectionate on the inside. He never felt particularly orphaned thanks to her and the way she took care of all her brother’s children. Yeah, that was Aunt Polly alright, John mused as he sped through the country road in his favorite blue convertible. He passed the picturesque cliffs and continued his drive all the way down the coast to the capital city. As he was driving, however, he spotted a cottage just near the apple orchard on the side of the road. Intrigued, John stopped his car and parked outside the building.

He got out and looked around, taking in the pleasant surroundings. Then, out of the corner of his eye, John noticed a woman approaching him. Her walk was brisk and her voice clear, as she spoke directly at him.

* * *

Emma noticed the fancy car approach her father’s business and promptly raised her head from behind the book she was reading. Alright. The new customer could mean much more income than most, judging by his flashy car. Such a chance couldn’t go to waste.

“Welcome to our orchard,” she exclaimed, making her way to the parking lot. She tried to give him one of her more pleasant smiles. “All the apple trees are currently occupied, but you are more than welcome to visit our shop!”

Before the man in front of her could say anything, Emma made the point of turning around and making him follow her. Guided by the mane of unruly red locks bouncing off her back, the man obviously obliged. He entered the ranch hesitantly, his cap in his hand and the dark coat thrown over his shoulder. _Not bad_ , Emma thought, ringing him up on the ancient cash register. He was handsome, alright. Not in an obvious way, but in a way she could definitely appreciate.

“So, you grow apple trees?” the man asked.

“Sure,” she said. “Apple trees, tomatoes, watermelons… Whatever the weather allows. The neighbors up the hill are the plantation owners, if you’re up for paying a sick price for a bag of His Majesty’s Royal Tea.”

She allowed herself this little joke, as she could see he was a city boy, not only by how he dressed but also by the car he drove.

“I’d like to pick some apples, thanks,” the man said, grinning at her. Emma noticed a toothpick, nested comfortably between his lips. She wondered then where she’d seen that thing before. The man certainly reminded her of someone.

“Ah, right. Let me check that for you. Follow me.”

She led the stranger behind the main building, back to the orchard. Emma couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she’d seen that man before, just didn’t know from where.

“So, here is our orchard. I see that some people have already picked their apples so you’re welcome to pick yours.” She handed the stranger a bag. “We charge by the weight.”

The stranger considered this before turning to her and smiling cheekily.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” 

“I just mean… I’ve seen this orchard before. I live close by. I’ve never seen you here before,” he explained.

“Oh.” Her suspicion subsided, if only a little. “I took over after my father fell ill. I’m in charge now,” she said, not without some pride. “Now, do you want to pick your apples or not?”

The stranger looked around, considering his options. Finally, he nodded and went toward the apple trees. Emma watched him carefully, as he picked the apples in his fine suit. Something felt off about the guy, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“All done,” the stranger approached her again after about an hour, as she minded the weighing station.

Huffing a little bit, Emma took his bag and weighed it, mindful of the final result.  
“Alright.” She gave the man the exact price and he handed her a banknote for twice as much.   
“That…” she cleared her throat. “Wait a second.” She was about to leave for the office to grab the change but he stopped her.   
“Listen. Keep the change, alright?” 

His eyes were searching, she just didn’t know for what. His smile was lovely, though. Just the right amount of cheeky, but otherwise warm and inviting.

“Hey, what’s your name?” The stranger asked and cast the toothpick to the ground. Emma looked into his eyes, questioning. 

“Emma.”

“Emma,” he repeated, tentatively. “Very well. Listen, Emma. My family and I are going to throw an unreasonably and ridiculous fuckin’ party in two weeks. My aunt’s favorite pie is apple, I think you should think of supplying us your apples. You know. For the party.”

Before she could protest, a business card was pressed in between her fingers. She looked at the name and her blood curdled. 

_She just flirted with the prince._

* * *

The delegation from Denmark finally arrived and everyone was forced to attend. The palace was decorated to the brim and the entire staff on edge, striving for perfection. All the princes and the princess accompanied their brother to the main hall, to welcome their distinguished guests. Tommy looked incredible in his formal attire. Polly, in her red gown, looked positively regal. John, on the other hand, kept tugging on his collar, feeling like his jacket was specifically designed to suffocate him. He could feel Tommy’s angry gaze at him but took no note of it. _Who the fuck designed these?!_

Then, the fanfares sounded.

“Your Royal Highnesses,” John watched Tommy elegantly bow before the princesses and their black-clad uncle, as they entered the palace. “Welcome to Astreles Islands.”

The princesses were honestly lovely. Both of them strawberry blonde, young and giddy. John already knew Tommy wouldn’t be interested in the slightest. Their uncle, however, was another matter entirely. He looked slightly older than Tommy, closer to Arthur’s age but younger than Polly. He had an unkempt sort of beard and used a cane, though John kind of suspected this might have all been an act. The man also spoke impeccable English, without any noticeable Danish accent, which was more than unusual. _Oh fuck almighty._

John groaned internally. He knew his brother’s type too well. This already felt like trouble.

After the initial introductions and dinner, John managed to excuse himself for long enough to escape to the nearest corridor for an attempt to smoke a cigarette.

“That bad, huh?”

The familiar voice behind him made John jump out of his skin.

“Ah. Emma.” He tried to hide the cigarette behind his back, which just made the young woman chuckle.

“Save it, Your Royal Highness.” She attempted a curtsy, which made the prince smile in turn.

“Almost,” he remarked, as she looked at him playfully.

“Fair enough.” She was holding a basket full of fresh, red apples. Her muscles were visible under the thin fabric of the shirt and John honestly couldn’t take his eyes off of that. He was used to delicate princesses, boring midwives, and predictable maids.

Not…

_Not his._

“Let me help you with that, darlin’,” he offered promptly.

She was a bit shocked, since she honestly never expected to see the prince again. That is to say, after he offered her his card, she had to take a short break. For a day. 

But then, the period of embarrassment was subsequently replaced by intolerable curiosity. She could have of course pretended to ignore the invitation and live out her ordinary life, running her father’s shop and the orchard, but… where was the fun in that?

And then again, this was the royal family of Astreles, not fucking England. She was a citizen of a country small enough to feel like a very strange, very eclectic family. Why couldn’t she make use of the prince’s very generous invitation to supply his party?

“Emma?”

Prince John was looking at her expectantly now, holding the basket of apples before her.

“Holy fuck,” Emma muttered before she could help herself. “Oh, fuck! Your Royal Highness…” 

Try as one might, there was no escape from what she’d just said to the prince.

Then, John laughed. It was genuine, full of joy and honestly endearing. She never expected the prince to be so… well. _Human_. She knew the king, he was the prince’s older brother of course, but seeing John now, well... The two of them couldn’t have been more different in her eyes.

“Listen… Lead me down to the kitchens, eh?” the prince said, holding the heavy basket. “I’ll gladly accept the distraction.”

Emma nodded then and led him down the corridor to the servants’ stairs. Along the way, she imagined the faces everyone would make upon seeing the prince down there, in the kitchens with her as his escort. It honestly felt surreal.

“The kitchen’s right over there, Your Royal Highness,” she chirped, not even trying to be gentle about it. As her and the prince made their way inside the palace kitchen, she could physically feel the tension in the room grow. Everyone present bowed or curtsied as John entered, and to her surprise, she noticed the young prince blush.

“Let me take these from you,” she said ten and freed John from the basket of apples. “So,” she said cheerfully. “Would you like to join me and Mary in preparations for the pie, Your Royal Highness?” 

Emma honestly didn’t know how to continue the conversation with John in these circumstances and this suddenly seemed like the best idea. 

“You know…” the prince said, before unbuttoning his jacket. “Yeah. Why the fuck not.” 

She chuckled at the swear word and beckoned Mary towards them. The young kitchen’s aid was pale as a sheet.

“Mary, dear,” Emma said gently. “Grab us the flour and the eggs, will ya? I’ll make His Royal Highness some tea.”

The girl nodded and ran towards the pantry. John looked behind her and then fixed his gaze right at Emma. She held his gaze.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?”

“Why would I be, Your Royal—”

“John. Please. I beg you, even. Call me John.”

Emma cleared her throat and nodded. The other workers in the kitchen eyed her and the prince suspiciously but said nothing.

“John,” she said slowly, as if hearing the name for the first time in her life. “Why would I be scared of you? Your brother honestly seems like the eerie one, not you.”

_Fuck._

She could see John’s face change, suddenly pensive. She immediately scorned herself for her big mouth. But how could she have helped it? Everybody in the kingdom feared their king a little bit. He was a good king, much better than his father had been, but a slightly scary man nonetheless.

“He’s not that bad,” John said finally, eyes a little bit kinder. “You don’t know him as well as I do.”

“No, of course not. I suppose had he been my brother, this would have been an entirely different conversation.” Emma busied herself with making tea, cheeks rosy as the apples from her orchard.

“Hey, uh…” John hoisted himself up and sat down at the large table in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m not angry, alright? Emma?”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have said—”

“No, it’s just that… many people misunderstand him. Because of his position.”

They were both obviously still talking about the king and that honestly made Emma feel uncomfortable. 

“I believe you,” she said, as gently as she could.

Discussing the king with his brother was honestly too bizarre for her liking. _Honestly,_ sitting with the PRINCE in the kitchen while making him tea was already weird enough. But she couldn’t help herself, either. She’d liked the guy from the start. He seemed different. Genuine, kind. He had a sense of humor and this sort of comfortable presence about him.

“Alright.” John accepted her words, then jumped off the table. “Where do you keep the cups?”

Emma pointed him towards the cupboard and to her astonishment, the prince took out two cups for them both. She took the kettle off the stove then and poured the tea into the cups, trying not to stare at the man.

“Ah, fuck, it’s a good cuppa,” John said, which honestly made Emma chuckle. “What?” he asked.

“It’s a very English saying,” she said, carefully blowing over her own cup. 

They both stood like that over the large wooden table, hands resting on it right next to each other.

“Well, they made me an’ Tommy finish Oxford,” the prince said, taking another sip. He was messing with his collar with his other hand, which finally made him spill a bit of tea on his official attire.

“Shit!” They both said at the same time and put down the cups.

Emma rushed to aid the prince, as he unbuttoned the rest of his military jacket, decorated with a bunch of unnecessary medals. She could practically see all the older women in the kitchen giving them both _looks._

“Let me get you some baking soda, Your—” she stopped herself there and the prince chuckled. “John,” she finished the sentence and went to the large metal sink in order to grab the soda box. She also poured a glass of warm water from the tap and returned to the jacket, now spread out on the table.

She began to clean it, entirely certain in her movements.

“You’ve done this before,” John said, now standing behind her and watching intently. 

“I have two younger sisters,” she said, smirking. “I’m very good with stains.”

“Is that so?” John took a step closer, making sure she felt his presence behind her now.

“Ah, sure.” Emma scrubbed his jacket gently, satisfied that the stain was coming out. “All good,” she exclaimed after a while. “Clean as new. Ready to come back to the party, Your… John.”

The prince chuckled behind her and looked at the jacket, as if in pain.

“What if I don’t want to come back to the party?” he said quietly. “That thing is honestly uncomfortable to wear.”

“What?”

“I’d rather stay here,” he explained, his tone warm and inviting. “With you.”

“I’m—”

“Interesting, Emma.” He put the jacket back on the table and took her hand in his. “That’s what you are. Tell me about yourself. And your sisters. I want to know more.”

All right, this wasn’t appropriate, but fuck… This was the prince, fine, but also the kindest man she’d ever had the pleasure of interacting with. She honestly didn’t want to let go just yet.

“You can’t... do that,” she said softly, feeling a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

“Sure I can!” John said cheerfully. “Everyone!” he exclaimed. “Please kindly exit the kitchens! Yeah. So sorry to trouble you, this is of utmost importance to your country! That’s right. Thank you!”

Everyone listened to him. Of course they did. Not that she would have expected otherwise, but it was still incredible to watch.

“Right,” John said, after him and Emma were alone in the kitchens. “So. We’re alone now. Will you answer me now?”

She turned around and was about to say something clever but then he pressed his lips to hers and took her breath away.

Fuck.

_She just flirted with the prince._

And he flirted right back at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally requested as a Reader/John fic so if that's your thing, you can read it on my tumblr!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the Alfie/Tommy bit that nobody asked for.

Tommy stood outside the stables and smoked. It was an activity not entirely expected of a king, staying so far away from his own party just to get some peace and quiet. His own people were used to his different ways but still… the delegation from Denmark might not be so understanding.

“A good night for a walk, innit?”

A sharp remark startled Tommy and so he dropped the rest of his cigarette to the ground. He swiftly snubbed it with his shoe, before looking at the man that approached him. The Crown Prince of Denmark was a peculiar man, Tommy was now sure of it. He wore all black which was, as far as Tommy knew, a sign of mourning after his late wife, Princess Veronica of Denmark. She was the one related to the king, and Alfie was… well. Just the husband. The princesses he escorted to the kingdom of Astreles Islands were his nieces, however that arrangement worked.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Tommy said mechanically, not willing to be rude.

Alfie hummed at that, looking back at the sky. 

He was a weird man, Tommy mused. He had a dark, albeit not unpleasant sort of presence. And a wicked sense of humor. Tommy took the silence between them as an opportunity to look closer at Alfie’s cane. It was black, with a silver handle shaped like a dragon head.

“Is this your first time here, Your Highness?” Tommy asked, mindful of the protocol, as always. 

“Oh, fuck off with that,” Alfie chuckled, never taking his eyes off of the star-lit sky.

That… honestly made Tommy pause.

“Excuse me?”

All he really wanted to say was “what the fuck” but as king, he restrained himself. Alfie, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. 

“Do you know any constellations?” he asked Tommy instead, now resting both his hands on the cane.

Alfie’s dark coat billowed behind him like giant wings.

“Uh, well… There’s your… Dragon...Ass. And the little… turtle,” Tommy tried, suddenly too tired to even pretend to be a royal. He was not as devoid of a sense of humor either, as most would have you believe. 

Alfie laughed at that remark, he honest to God laughed. It was a pleasant sort of sound, Tommy reckoned, if a bit raspy.

“Excellent,” Alfie decided. “Call your fucking advisors, Your Majesty. We shall draft the new map of the sky above your islands immediately.”

“So you do know who I am,” Tommy said calmly.

“What?” Alfie looked at him, either pretending or genuinely confused.

“You called me by my proper title,” Tommy explained.

“Oh, stop the fuckin’ presses,” Alfie huffed and looked back up at the sky. “Fine, let me call you that. Your Majesty. Does that make you feel any better, eh?”

“Where’s your accent from?” Tommy interrupted him then, not entirely willing to let the topic of their conversation move in another direction.

“Fuck off,” Alfie chuckled again then looked right back at the young king.

Tommy’s cheeks went pink.

“That’s disrespectful,” he remarked.

“Oh, is it? To the king that’s half my age?” Alfie said; his eyes slits, full of suspicion.

“What the hell have I done to you?” Tommy barked.

“Oh, nothing. Just here to get one of my niece’s hopes up, then stomp on her heart, I suppose,” Alfie said. To Tommy’s surprise, the man took an old-fashioned pipe out of his pocket and began to stuff the chamber with a pleasant-smelling tobacco. 

“It’s cherry,” Alfie said, as if somehow sensing Tommy’s thoughts. “The tobacco, I mean. You can only buy it in one special shop in Copenhagen, but it’s honestly worth it, yeah.” Alfie put the mouthpiece in between his lips and lit the tobacco with a match. He huffed out a puff of smoke and _fuck yes,_ that smelled delicious indeed, Tommy thought. 

“Here,” Alfie offered him his pipe and before Tommy could think of an excuse, he accepted. There was still a bit of saliva present on the mouthpiece and despite all his qualms, Tommy greedily closed his lips around it. He took a strong drag and held it a while in his throat, before releasing through his nose. He closed his eyes for a minute or two.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “That is good tobacco.”

“See, had I known you were alright,” Alfie said, taking away his pipe, “I would’ve brought you that as a gift, instead of my own flesh and blood.”

“Aren’t the girls related to you on your late wife's side?” Tommy murmured, suddenly relaxed.

“Aye, don’t be a smartass, Your fuckin’ Majesty…”

Tommy barked out a laugh, not knowing why exactly he kept indulging that man. Maybe because he secretly wanted to drag his fingers through that beard and kiss him.

A solid argument, that.

“You haven’t answered my question, though,” Tommy said, shifting against the stables wall, just to stand a bit closer to the other man. “Is this your first time here on the islands?”

“Yeah,” Alfie really answered this time. He smoked his pipe and looked at the horizon before them. You could see the sea from where they stood, the cliffs a perilous, white nothingness right in front, the waves a treacherous blackness crashing on the rocks closest to the beach.

“Are you enjoying–”

“Oh, fuck you, Thomas.”

 _Nobody_ spoke to Tommy this way. Not when he was a little boy, a student, or a monarch. He considered for a minute to seriously draw the appropriate consequences of these actions but then…

Their eyes met.

“Nobody will believe you,” Alfie said calmly, puffing his pipe like a goddamn pirate. Tommy never felt so aroused in his life.

“I could call my guard,” he said, like an idiot.

“Oh?” Alfie seemed amused. “Please do.”

Tommy said nothing. He unglued himself from the stables wall and stepped closer towards Alfie. It was dark, he reckoned. Nobody would see…

Alfie still stood there like a statue, smoking his pipe and seemingly unfazed.

Tommy slowly made his way towards him, feeling like running in a dream. Each step felt like it lasted a lifetime. Alfie patiently lowered down his pipe and now just watched Tommy intently. Then, His Majesty the King of Astreles Islands threw his hands around the Crown Prince of Denmark's neck and kissed him desperately, hungrily even.

The chances for another peaceful treaty between the two countries have never both felt slimmer and stronger at the same time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole story honestly got away from me a little bit. It came to me after the request on my tumblr but then even after I published it yesterday, even with the unsolicited second part... It didn't feel finished. I couldn't live with myself until I wrote this last part, now finally knowing it's a complete story. 
> 
> I know this ending is not exactly happy, it's rather bittersweet, but as far as endings go, this is not the worst one, either.

“Ah, fuck me…” Alfie rubbed his face with his hands, finally able to catch his breath.

“Think I just did,” Tommy said casually and put his unfinished cigarette in the ashtray that stood on his nightstand. Then, he leaned closer and buried his head in the crook of Alfie’s neck with a satisfied hum.

“Oh, fuck off…” Alfie grabbed the cigarette and finished it for him. “Are you going to be smug about it now? Never should’ve let you do this...”

“You loved it and you know it,” Tommy chuckled, his voice muffled. He was refusing to leave his spot, practically resting on the other man.

“Yeah, fuck’s sake… There will be no living with you after this,” Alfie grumbled. Tommy chuckled into Alfie’s neck again, then finally came out of there and looked at the other man intently. Tommy’s hair was a mess and his cheeks were flushed. 

“God damn, that face,” Alfie said quietly, tracing his fingers over Tommy’s cheekbones. Tommy smiled and closed his eyes. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” the young king said, ready to hide his face again.

“Like what?” Alfie asked, seemingly innocent.

“Like you want to _eat me_ or something.”

“Maybe I do?”

“Shortage of food that bad in Denmark, huh?” Tommy smiled. 

“Nah, we manage. Lots of pretty boys to sacrifice to the gods, if needed,” Alfie smirked and stubbed out the cigarette, letting the rest of the smoke escape through his nose. 

They were like that for a few minutes, peaceful and quiet. Alfie held the king close and contemplated something intently, while Tommy’s mind kept racing.

“You can’t leave,” Tommy finally broke their silence, looking at Alfie again.

“Oh, I know. I’m not moving for at least an hour,” Alfie said, not even opening his eyes.

“No, listen to me.” Tommy sat up on the bed. “Don’t… just. Stay longer.”

Alfie let out a heavy huff and looked at the other man with an unreadable expression.

“Not up to me, sweetheart.”

“I could arrange something… make up an official reason.” Tommy looked at him all hopeful and for a second it broke Alfie’s heart a little bit. He could relate to the young king’s trail of thought probably better than anyone. He’s been there, in a way. Many times, in fact.

Alfie grunted and lifted himself up to sit as well. 

“Tommy,” he patted the place next to himself and put his arm around the young king, once he obliged to come closer. “Do you know who first commissioned the King James Bible?”

That… was unexpected. Tommy looked at him, even more wide-eyed than before.

“The what?”

“The King James Bible,” Alfie repeated, tone patient as ever. He let go of Tommy for a second to grab his pipe from the tumbled mess that was his coat, discarded on the floor. 

“Are you having a stroke or am I?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“ _Your Majesty,_ ” Tommy stressed, although half-jokingly. 

“You major pain in my ass,” Alfie agreed. An innuendo raced through Tommy’s head and he smirked a bit. Alfie gave him _a look_ and continued:

“Now, King James, right, you may not know this since you live in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere–”

That earned Alfie a shove from Tommy, and he chuckled a bit at the younger man’s efforts.

“Right, so our dear King James the sixth, I believe, was a complete fuckin’ sodomite, right,” Alfie stuffed the chamber of his pipe with the same excellent cherry tobacco he seemed to be most fond of, never stopping spinning his tale, though, “He had this man, I mean he had many men, sure, but this one seemed to be the king’s favorite, now, we shall name him Ed…” 

Alfie paused for a second to light a match and puffed on his pipe until he had it nice and going. Then, he put his arm back around Tommy’s shoulders and made a wide gesture with his other hand, spreading the smell of cherry tobacco all over the king’s bedroom quarters. 

“Now, Ed was a pretty man, as far as men go, not as pretty as you, but then again I wouldn’t put it past you to be half-elf, who the fuck knows what you and your people get up to on these islands… anyway, King James, right, he was so stupid in love with this guy, that when people finally started to catch on to what him and Ed were really getting up to after hours, the king had to come up with excuses. Now, the excuses as far as those go, grew wilder and wilder, to the point where the king started giving Ed titles. Minor at first, then more major, and in the end he became something like the emperor of the king's chamberpot, or something–”

“You’re making all this up!” Tommy interjected but was still smiling a little, because well... it was a good story. If completely ridiculous. He moved a bit closer, seeking warmth. Alfie obliged, then reached for the covers and pulled it over them both. 

“Would I lie to you?” Alfie murmured and then shared his pipe when Tommy gestured for it.

“Fuck yes,” Tommy said immediately. “You’re lying to me now.”

Alfie chuckled and hummed appreciatively. 

“The young king catches on quickly…” he hummed, voice low and raspy. “Well, King James’ advisors caught on as well, eventually. They warned him that being stupid could cost him the kingdom but then the king decided, right, that he could throw something at his people, preferably something that could potentially shut up the pope, too.”

“The pope?!”

“Yeah, lives in Rome, wears funny hats.”

“I know who the pope is, Alfie!”

“How can I be sure, sweetie, you–”

“Live in the middle of nowhere, yeah, yeah…” Tommy gestured for Alfie to carry on. “And what happened then?”

Alfie smirked and took back his pipe. “Well, he commissioned the bible. The people felt more important, the king seemed like a godly man, he bowed before the pope, probably sucked his cock nice and slow after the parade…”

Tommy snorted and shook his head, completely astonished by the story he just heard. That man… was something. He was definitely something.

“Alfie?” Tommy asked after a moment of quiet.

“Hm?”

“Was that supposed to make me give up on you or something?”

Alfie smirked and closed his eyes. He said nothing.

“Well, you’ve done a very poor job, then.” Tommy concluded and moved even closer to rest his head against the other man’s shoulder.

* * *

As it turns out, the story wasn’t completely untrue. Having to tend to some of his duties the next day, Tommy took a short break from the royal obligations around noon and went to the larger library in the palace to find a more detailed publication about English monarchs. 

His sister found him like that. He was sitting on the carpet, in a completely undignified fashion, engrossed in the story of King James.

“Tommy?” Ada asked, her voice low and soothing. 

Tommy raised his head to meet her gaze and, still not exactly back in reality, he gestured widely at the books and scrolls laid out before him in no particular order.

“He was telling the truth.”

Ada furrowed her brow and sat down on the futon nearest to where Tommy was sitting.

“Who?” she inquired, already a little worried. She knew Tommy could be obsessive and she really hoped this wasn’t what she thought it was. Not again.

“The… the crazy uncle.”

“Oh, honey…” Ada looked at him then and it felt like a spark of consciousness was exchanged between the two siblings.

The realisation sank in with the young king, then.

“You know,” Tommy said, his voice careful and somber.

“Oh, darling, of course I do. How could I not?” Ada lowered herself from her seat to the carpet where Tommy sat, surrounded by all the books and papers like a manic writer. “I haven’t seen you like that in a while,” she said, now gently combing her fingers through his dark hair.

“Like what?” Tommy grumbled, but still closed his eyes and allowed himself this moment of comfort.

“Happy,” Ada said and that made him look at her in utter surprise. 

She smiled at him and nodded.

“Happy,” Tommy repeated incredulously.

“Yes. I wish this could last, Tommy.”

The king knew his sister meant it. She was the only one who never lied to him.

“So do I.” He sighed and closed the heavy volume he was still holding.

“So what are we gonna do?” Ada pressed, eyes a little less sympathetic and a bit more determined now.

“What?” Tommy didn’t expect her to say… well, that. The hopeful things that could potentially lead to an even bigger disappointment. 

“What’s the plan, Tom? I know you have one, I can see the cogs spinning in that clever head of yours,” Ada beamed at him now, curious as to the solution her brilliant brother came up with.

“I got nothing,” he admitted 

“Then allow me to make a suggestion,” she said, biting her lower lip and clearly scheming. Tommy knew her scheming face all too well.

“Please,” Tommy gestured widely around himself, as if to say he was out of possibilities.

“Take a stroll around the rose garden with me.”

“What?”

“Just… just do it.” Ada stood up and dusted her dress. “Trust me.”

They left the main building together, grabbing their coats along the way. Both knew the way to the rose garden by heart, as it was the largest garden in the palace and easy to hide in, especially when you’re an unruly royal child and want to escape the incessant nagging of your governess.

Ada was faster than him, always has been, and so now Tommy nearly ran behind his sister, only stopping to gather himself when they passed a servant or a member of the court. _This was really no way for a king to behave_ , Tommy thought to himself in those moments, but still followed. They reached the first rose bushes and turned left by the old and abandoned East Wing of the palace. The scenery of the royal gardens changed there, with trees a bit larger and the number of servants and gardeners sparser. Ada led him towards the labyrinth, Tommy realized, but followed her without a word until they reached the entrance and he saw a familiar black-clad figure waiting for them there.

“What?” Tommy asked but Ada just laughed, her cheeks rosy from the exercise. 

“Just trust me, please?” she said before letting out an amused chuckle. 

Once they approached Alfie, Tommy noticed the other man adjusted his posture a little. He bowed before both royals, though his eyes never left Tommy’s.

“Your Majesty…” Alfie said in a low tone. Tommy cleared his throat. “And Your Royal Highness, might I just say you look particularly lovely this fine afternoon–”

“Your Highness,” Tommy snapped at Alfie a little, for which he received a light nudge to his ribs, courtesy of his darling little sister. 

“Alright, charade over,” Ada decided, completely surprising Tommy but, to his even greater astonishment – not Alfie. Why must he always be the last to know things in his own goddamn kingdom? “Now, listen. Not a peep from either of you, alright? We must be absolutely silent. Got it?” The princess looked at them both and watched as they both nodded in agreement.

Tommy was then led by his sister through the labyrinth of roses, with Alfie following close behind. Tommy had honestly no clue what was happening and stopped trying to guess a while ago. Then, after a few turns, Ada suddenly stopped and turned around to look at her brother. She pressed her finger to his lips, once more reminding him to stay absolutely silent. Tommy nodded and tried to look at his sister in a way that would suggest him growing impatient. But then, she slowly led him to a clearing and showed Tommy something right in front of them, though slightly obscured by a large hedge.

Tommy heard giggles.

Was that…?

_No._

Tommy smiled quietly, trying not to move or make any noise, but this… oh, this was _golden_. This was the answer to his prayers. This honestly made Christmas seem ordinary.

There, on the stone bench behind the yellow roses, Princess Mary-Louise sat, embraced by the king’s youngest brother, Prince Finn. They were kissing, tongue and everything, and clearly didn’t see the audience they had just attracted. Tommy realized this was his time to shine and swiftly stepped into his royal persona. He went briskly past Ada, with a sudden air of authority around him that as king he could summon at will. 

Tommy cleared his throat loudly once he stood directly in front of the young lovers. He kept his face perfectly stone-cold, though on the inside he was practically roaring with laughter. Both teenagers nearly jumped right out of their skin once they heard him and then looked at the king with utter dread and identically red faces.

_Oh, this was going to be good._

* * *

“This is a bloody DISASTER, Thomas! It is and you fucking know it!”

“Aunt Pol–”

“Don’t _Aunt Pol_ me, this is a diplomatic CATASTROPHE!”

“Calm down, auntie. They wanted a wedding, they’ll have a wedding. Finn is still a member of this family, they’ll be happy. The dynasties will be joint, our union with Denmark stronger than ever. Everybody’s happy.”

They were standing in the throne room, just the three of them, with Tommy behind Finn and Aunt Polly pacing left to right in front of them.

“No, you absolute fool!” She stopped her pacing and pointed a finger at both brothers. “This is an insult! We’re not giving them the king, we’re giving them A PRINCE! King’s youngest brother, as far in the line of succession as one could possibly be in this palace, perhaps aside from MY CHAMBERMAID!”

His aunt was fuming. Tommy has been standing like a statue for what felt like hours now, calmly trying to reason with the woman who clearly didn’t want to be reasoned with.

“How could you have been so careless?” Aunt Polly was looking at Finn now, which honestly made Tommy a little uneasy. Her shouting directed at himself, he could take. He was used to taking people’s shit, especially since his own decisions were never respected in this family. Finn, however, his youngest brother... that was a different matter entirely. 

Tommy didn’t like anyone speaking that way to Finn.

“This was so careless, so careless!” Polly lamented and resumed her pacing.

“But… I love her, auntie. And she’s nice, we kissed, it was nothing–” Finn tried to say his part but couldn’t even finish.

“Stop it! It wasn’t _nothing_ , she’s A PRINCESS! A fucking…! Jewel of Denmark!” Polly’s voice was trembling now. “What am I going to do now? How can we fix this?”

“I thought you wanted us to be happy,” Finn sighed, defeated.

That made Polly pause and for the first time Tommy felt hopeful that the situation might finally come to a rational resolution.

“Darling,” Polly stepped closer to the boy and sighed. “Of course I do.”

“Then why–”

“Because the fate of your people depends on it! Our kingdom depends on it! Our kingdom depended on YOUR older brother to fucking GET HIMSELF TOGETHER and–”

Alright, he honestly indulged the woman long enough.

“Stop.” Tommy didn’t raise his voice one bit, he didn’t need to. Something in the air around him made Polly fall silent.

The young king stepped in front of his brother then, who was at this point as pale as a ghost and nearly trembling before the wrath of their aunt. 

“It’s alright.” Tommy said, in that same calm manner, not really knowing if he was speaking to Finn or Aunt Polly.

“Tom–”

“I’m speaking,” Tommy said harshly. “Aunt Polly,” he added, though, not really feeling like going to war with the older woman. Not just yet. 

He turned his attention back to Finn, who was now looking a bit calmer, if a little puzzled.

“It’s alright.” Tommy placed both hands on his brother’s shoulders. “You’re a man now, you hear me? You’re not a child, you can make your own choices. You want to marry the princess? I give you my blessing. You’ll marry the princess... if she’ll have you.” Tommy smirked a bit and that seemed to have finally pulled Finn out of his trance. “We can advise you as your family and give you our support but nobody can force you into submission. You’re a fucking prince of this country, you hear me?”

Finn gasped a bit hearing his brother swear so openly in front of him. Tommy winked at him before turning his attention to their aunt, who was honestly no less bewildered than the young prince.

“Then it’s decided,” Tommy said. “We’ll announce their formal engagement to the king and queen of Denmark, the girls’ uncle will give his blessing on behalf of the family. They’ll marry in six months, when they’re both eighteen.”

“Five, actually” Finn piped up from behind his brother, feeling now a bit more daring.

Tommy smiled to himself.

“Five, then,” he nodded and looked at his aunt, eyes unyielding but kind. “We’ll have the formal union, the two families joined together as one, and I trust you with all preparations and decisions as to the royal wedding itself. We’ll keep our ally happy, and what is perhaps more important – my brother will be happy as well. I believe that’s all that matters.”

Polly looked at him then, something about Tommy visibly made her pause. Finally, she took a very long breath and exhaled similarly slowly. She nodded and straightened her posture, then shifted her attention to the youngest nephew. 

“I’m sorry,” she said slowly.

Finn just nodded and swallowed loudly.

Polly looked back at the king but didn’t try to persuade him anymore. There was a different air about Tommy, something changed but she couldn’t quite figure it out.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. Your Majesty.” Having said that, she stormed out of the room.

Tommy physically felt the tension leaving his body. 

“Can I go now?” Finn asked quietly, though without the previous panic in his voice. 

“Not yet,” Tommy said and turned around. 

Finn looked positively resigned now and fixed his gaze back on the floor. Then, the greatest surprise of this day came, as Tommy closed the distance between them and gently embraced him. Finn froze for a second, before he realized what was actually happening. He reciprocated the hug, unsure like a kitten. Tommy didn’t let go until his brother did so first. 

“Go. But no more hiding in the bushes.” Tommy fixed his brother’s hair until he deemed it presentable. “You’re a prince.”

“Of this fucking country!” Finn gave him a small smile and exited the room with a newly found dignity.

Tommy left the throne room last and closed the door behind him. Then, he saw a familiar dark figure smoking by the window and wondered for a second if Alfie had been standing there all this time.

“Fifty-five minutes,” Alfie announced to the king, before putting his pocket watch back. “Impressive woman, your aunt. The lungs on that tiny lady! Wouldn’t want to find myself at the other end of her wrath, I’ll tell you that.”

Tommy chuckled at that and looked around before taking Alfie’s pipe and taking a long, calming drag. He could feel the other man’s eyes on himself but honestly nothing could have prepared Tommy for the words that were spoken next:

“You surprised me, Your Majesty.” 

Tommy chuckled softly before he met Alfie’s gaze. Alfie wasn’t laughing, though, not this time. He was looking right at Tommy, serious and pensive. 

“Alfie…”

“I misjudged you.” Alfie took his pipe back and nodded. “Yeah. Huge mistake on my part, I’m usually never wrong about people.”

“Alfie.” Tommy looked around again and took the other man’s hand. His own was ice-cold, Alfie’s warm as always.

“I suppose I’ll have to stay. To keep an eye on my nieces, you see,” Alfie said, a playful glint back in his eyes. “I still have one single niece and you have two more single brothers. I honestly fear for the poor girl, I really do.”

“Oh.” Tommy smiled. “Not three? Brothers.”

“Nah.” Alfie squeezed the king’s hand a bit tighter. “The third one isn’t single.”

“Well,” Tommy physically felt his heart swell and honestly choked a little bit. “I don’t know if we have enough room, I mean look at this place,” he teased, letting go of Alfie and taking a few steps back, outstretching his arms on both sides. “It’s a dump! In the middle of the sea!”

Alfie laughed at that and Tommy honestly felt like he would like to spend his days just on making that man laugh like this.

“I’m not particularly high-maintenance. A single room will do. Maybe an adjoined bathroom, if you have one.”

“You know…” Tommy said, his tone lower. “I heard the king’s bathtub is honestly enormous.”

“Is that so?” Alfie put his pipe away and looked back at the window. It was starting to rain now, the world outside slowly getting darker and more quiet. “Yeah, that sounds about right, the prick.”

Tommy laughed at that and shrugged. 

“Yeah, he can be.”

“Nah,” Alfie left his spot by the window and patted Tommy on the back, then looked around before putting his arm around the young king. “I hear he’s alright.”

* * *

The two kingdoms became even closer allies after the royal wedding. The king and queen of Denmark never seemed disappointed with the union, like Polly feared, they looked rather relieved. Tommy realized that in this whole arrangement, everyone forgot about the young Mary-Louise and her sister. Both were far too young for Tommy ever to marry, even if he were so inclined. Once the royal couple saw their daughter with the young prince, it was as if an invisible weight was lifted off their shoulders. After the wedding, the queen thanked Tommy a little bit too much and a little too long for him not to understand her double meaning. She reminded him a bit about his own mother in that moment – the queen second, and first and foremost a mother. 

Entirely encouraged by how everything turned out, Prince John saw this as the perfect opportunity to discreetly announce to his closest family, sans the king, his own little news.

Apparently, John’s heart belonged to the daughter of a certain apple orchard owner, and he was determined to propose soon. The most enthusiastic of all was obviously Ada, very excited to be a bridesmaid again.

Arthur was the first to break the silence, however, and congratulated his brother properly, as the rest of young royals observed the strength visibly leaving their Aunt Polly. She downed the drink she was holding in one go and immediately took two more from the nearest servant. She decided the kingdom was doomed so there was no point in staying sober.

Nobody, however, expected the reaction that the young king had, once John told him at last, one-to-one. The wedding was in full swing then, with the ballroom full of guests and the champagne flowing left, right and center, so John figured it was now or never. At least he knew that Tommy would never scold anyone in public.

Tommy listened to John’s explanations intently, keeping his face perfectly serious and neutral. Once his brother, visibly defeated, finally reached the conclusion of his story and asked for Tommy’s blessing, the young king’s carefully maintained facade of grave seriousness suddenly broke. He roared with laughter, spooking the nearest guests and the servants that stood the closest. 

None of the members of the court – not the staff, not even the king’s own family – ever heard him laugh like that. Tommy laughed until tears came out his eyes and he had to hold onto John for support. 

The young king gave his blessing, of course, after having thoroughly spooked poor John, and excused himself with needing to smoke. 

He went out to the smaller of the balconies adjoining the ballroom and hid a bit in the shadows, taking the full advantage of the dark colour of his official royal attire. He needed to be alone for a minute. Far too many new couples for his taste.

“We finally match, you and I.”

“Fuck!” Completely startled, Tommy dropped his matches and then watched bewildered as Alfie bent down to pick them up. He raised deliberately slowly, obviously suggesting something that Tommy couldn’t wait to do once they were alone together. 

“Your Majesty,” Alfie said, and Tommy realized the previously palpable mockery in his voice when addressing Tommy like that was gone entirely. Now it was casual. Amiable. 

“Here,” Alfie lit up a match and Tommy leaned a bit closer, letting him light his cigarette.

“Thanks.” 

“It’s a good thing you did there, you know? Not just for your brother.”

“John?”

Alfie chuckled.

“Nah, the little one.”

“Ah, well. The credit for the entire wedding planning should really go to Polly, I mean–”

“Stop fuckin’ beating around the bush when I’m trying to be frank with you,” Alfie sounded exasperated but shifted a bit closer so that their fingers touched, if only a little bit.

“Yeah, you’d love to drag me in the bushes, I know you do.”

“Fuck, you’re killing me, boy,” Alfie huffed and took the cigarette from Tommy, taking a drag himself.

Tommy chuckled softly and let him. It was _almost_ like kissing in public.

“You know,” Tommy said. “There is one thing I wanted to talk about. Since it’s a wedding and all…”

“Hmm…” was all that Alfie was prepared to say to that, apparently, so Tommy took it as encouragement.

“I will have to marry. Eventually.”

“Yeah. Eventually,” Alfie agreed and gave the cigarette back. 

“And when that happens, I don’t want you at the wedding.”

Alfie considered this for a minute.

“I know. But it’s better if I’m there,” he finally said, the usual humorous tone gone from his voice.

“I–”

“Trust me.”

_Fuck._

Of course, Alfie would know.

Seemed like as good a time as any to finally ask what really still bothered the young king, if only a little:

“How did she die? Your wife, I mean. You never told me.”

“You never asked.” Alfie placed his coat a little differently, to cover their hands before any prying eyes. He took Tommy’s hand firmly.

“She killed herself,” he said.

“Shit, I–”

Suddenly, Tommy felt like an asshole.

“Not… because of me. I know, that’s what everyone thinks, but it wasn’t that. We were friends, you see, me and Nic…”

“Princess Veronica?”

Alfie scoffed a bit at that statement.

“I never called her that. I called her ‘Nic’ and she called me ‘that old fool.’”

Tommy chuckled at that. “Yeah, I would’ve liked her.”

“She would’ve _loved_ you _._ ”

Alfie looked at Tommy then, his gaze definitely warmer now.

“Really? Despite me being a pompous prick, and all?”

“Like I said, she was a remarkable woman.”

Tommy chuckled at that and lit another cigarette, having to free his hand for two seconds from Alfie’s grasp. The other man was not having it, though, he grabbed what was his the second Tommy was done.

“So, she knew, then?” Tommy asked, now a little braver in his questions. “About you.”

“Oh, yeah. Like I said, she was a friend. My best friend, even.” Alfie got quiet for a second, before he continued the story:

“She was troubled, my girl. A kind and fiercely intelligent person, wicked sense of humor, yeah. She was honestly… exceptionally bright. And that… Had she been a man, she could’ve done something with that, right? Instead, she was born a princess.”

“I know the feeling,” Tommy muttered.

“No, you don’t,” Alfie disagreed, but his tone still remained warm and calm. “And I don’t know, either. We’ll never know how it feels. That’s why I think it’s a great thing you did there, for your brother. And for Mary-Louise. She’ll be happy here. You’ll protect her.”

Tommy sighed and nodded earnestly.

“‘Course I will. She’s family.”

“Yeah,” Alfie nodded and leaned in, expectantly. Tommy offered him the cigarette from his own fingers, which Alfie accepted because he really didn’t want to let go of Tommy’s hand. “So,” he grunted. “It got to her. At one point or another. All the jabs from her family, her father, the goddamn drunkard, and her brother, being a horrible father to the girls as the fuckin’ cherry on top… Granted, I never asked Nic to marry me.” Alfie sighed. “She somehow convinced me, because you see, her mother died in childbirth. And she was scared to death of getting pregnant. So, we had an arrangement. But little by little, I was running out of ideas how to help her when the melancholy came.”

Tommy said nothing this time, entranced with the story and completely, utterly gutted by Alfie’s pain.

“The mean blues, she called them.” Alfie nodded. “Yeah, the horrible reds were worse, though. Then she would get scared of the outside, wouldn’t leave the palace for months.”

Tommy wanted to ask something else but decided against it.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, because honestly what else was there to say. “I am. She didn’t deserve this.”

“Yeah.” Alfie cleared his throat. “But, like I said. She’d approve of you.” He smiled at Tommy and let him finish his cigarette. 

And that was that, Tommy supposed.

“I have to say goodbye to Finn. But I think I’m ready for bed, hm?” Tommy asked, squeezing Alfie’s hand.

“Nah, I still want to make a proper use of that bathtub you recommended so much.”

“You do, do you?”

“Oh, yeah. Heard the king was having a party tonight, should be gone for hours.”

Tommy laughed at that and nodded, definitely feeling lighter than he had before that chat.

After saying his goodbyes to the young couple and Finn’s new in-laws, Tommy retired to his chambers. Alfie was already there, the expert that he was at outwitting Tommy’s staff. 

Tommy locked the door and undressed without a word, gladly tearing off of himself the formal attire, until layer after layer all was left was just him.

Perhaps his own prediction was correct, perhaps he would have to marry someday, but now the thought didn’t seem so dreadful as it used to. Not when he had a man like Alfie looking at him the way he did, making the whole world irrelevant, if at least for a few hours.

One day, they will probably have to think of their own version of the King James Bible, but that, as far as Tommy was concerned, would be a problem for another day.


End file.
